


Remember.

by becausenothingelsematters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becausenothingelsematters/pseuds/becausenothingelsematters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John remembers everything, he remembers Sherlock's' burial. So how is he stood in front of him now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember.

**Author's Note:**

> A very quick mini fic written for a friend, just thought I'd put it up here so the page wasn't empty.... guess it's a taster for m writing!

I remember the war, the deaths and the tragedies. I remember the way I enjoyed the adrenaline, the life threatening moments. I remember the bullet that hit me, the pain that went through my entire body. I remember the way the nightmares tore at me until I met you. I remember that day, I remember how you saved me, and I saved you. I remember everything Sherlock, the cases, the laughs, the police, that dog. Everything. I remember it all Sherlock; the way you fell to the cement, the way your blood painted everything around you as you lay there cold and gone. I remember watching them take you away and bury you as my world crashed around me, my life crumbled beneath my feet. I remember dreading each morning; having to wake without the sound of your violin, forcing myself through another day without anything. I remember attempting it when I was as low as I can, I can’t remember what happened until I awoke in hospital- three days later. I remember going for a coffee one day and meeting Mary. I remember her clearly. I remember the way her hair shone in the sun, the way she smiled. I remember the way she saved me Sherlock. I remember our wedding day, and how beautiful she was. I remember how lucky I felt. I remember all the times we tried for a child. I remember the day the doctor told us, I remember that Sherlock. I remember the day she fell sick, and the days I sat at her bedside as her life left her, her own body turning against her. I remember her beauty leaving her, until she took her last breath. I remember holding her hand as she died. I remember my heart breaking for the second time. I remember the second time I lost the one who I loved the most. 

That’s the thing Sherlock, I can remember everything, and every tiny detail since you left me. So why is it I can see you? You stand in front of me now, claiming you’re sorry, but I buried you. I remember Sherlock; I do. You stand before me, moving towards me, I must be losing my mind finally. Leaving me wasn’t enough, you have to ruin my sanity, but you move towards me. Your hands reach out to me, they wrap around me, holding me close. I remember the touch of someone against me, this is real. It has to be... I remember. You hold me close until I relax, you hold me as the shakes take over and I collapse against you. You catch me as we both fall to our knees, my eyes empty. I’m broken Sherlock, this can’t be real. But I can feel you, and I remember that Sherlock I do, I remember your touch and this is it. This is your touch Sherlock. I find my hands moving to wrap around you and pull you close to me, I find myself hiding away against your neck, I find myself crying. I remember how that feels, I never had the chance to forget Sherlock. I feel the vibrations as you apologise, I feel your voice echo against my ear as you speak, in that voice of yours. How I remember that voice Sherlock.

“My dear Watson, I am so sorry. I had no Idea you would be so affected.” Your voice is sincere, apologetic, filled with sorry. I can hear your voice fill with tears as you see me like this. I’ve never seen you emotional, only after that woman... I think we both remember that. I rest in your arms as you pull me away from your neck, it’s safe there Sherlock, please don’t do that. 

Don’t throw me away already.

You look at me, your eyes red, you’ve been crying to. I watch as you draw closer, my lip still trembling, the tears still falling. I kneel there in front of you as your hands rise to my face, my eyes closing against the touch of your elegant fingers. I remember them Sherlock, how they worked against that violin to produce the most amazing melodies, I remember everything Sherlock. With my eyes closed I don’t see you lean forward, I don’t remember this. What I do remember is the way your lips grazed against mine, nudging me to relax against you. I’d forgotten what it was like to be kissed Sherlock, I really had. I remember your hands running to the back of my neck, your fingers interlocking to pull me closer. I remember the first time we kissed, the way it felt so natural. I moved my lips against yours, trying to remember what had happened, I buried you. I remember the way your arms explored my body- as if I was the one who had disappeared for years, as if you were the one who needed convincing I was real. I remember something breaking in me, I remember moving my arms around you, pulling you as close as I could have you, deepening the kiss, more frantic, more wanting; needier. I remember pulling away to see you smile. I remember that smile. I watched as you pulled me against you again, I remember forgetting. I let you lead me around the house, and I remember what happened next; the way you shown you weren’t the virgin. I remember how you made me feel more wanted then I’d ever been. I remember the touch of your hands as you pushed my shirt back away from me until it was on the floor, the way you pushed me to your bed, pulling every inch of cloth off of me. I remember how all you did was apologise, I remember how your voice was filled with need and want; lust. I remember Sherlock. I remember begging you to not leave me again, and the look in your eyes of pure sorrow before you kissed me. I remember everything that happened that night. The way you were gentle. The way you touched me, the way we moved together. Everything Sherlock; I remember everything. I remember pulling your clothes off, that stupid suit of yours, and seeing the scars beneath it. I remember being shocked, tracing my fingers along them, the shivers that was sent through you at the touch. I remember asking you what had happened, why you let this happen to yourself. I remember your answer. 

“To keep you safe.” 

I remember waking the next morning, expecting you to be gone; for this to be another dream that was only for my memory. Yet there you were Sherlock, you’d come back, and you were mine. I’ll never forget that day you left me, the way you’re blood painted the floor, I’ll never forget the day Mary lost her beauty and died, but I’ll always remember the day you came back. I’ll always remember that night, the way you held me and touched me. I’ll always remember the way you told me you loved me; even without words. I’ll always remember Sherlock.

I remember everything.


End file.
